New Release | “Legally Bound” by Golden Angel (Masters of Marquis #5) #Releases

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𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙩’𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙖𝙡…

𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘋𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴, 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘶𝘭, 𝘣𝘰𝘭𝘥, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘺. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘺, 𝘵𝘰𝘰. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘦𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵: 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦, 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴. 

𝘓𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴’ 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵, 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘗𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩-𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘥. 𝘊𝘢𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦, 𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥?

Get your copy HERE!

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Camille

 

Today was going to be terrible.

Her year had ended pretty well, and if she counted those early hours of the morning with Freddy, then it had started out pretty great, but everything had been pretty much downhill from there.

Yesterday’s visit with her mom had been fine too, actually. It was work that had frustrated her. Going through the Alexander’s prenup with a fine-tooth comb had given her a headache. Whoever had given the Alexanders the advice to sign it had been a total hack. More than one section was unclear.

Granted, things could go either way, but she wasn’t sure it would go Mrs. Alexander’s way, even though she was likely the more deserving party.

You’re not supposed to be thinking that way. Mr. Alexander is your client, not her. You’re supposed to be saving him as much money as possible… so that he can pay it all to Donaldson and some of it will come to you.

Right.

Sometimes, she felt like this job was sucking the soul right out of her body.

At least she had something to look forward to for the end of the day. Her reward to herself for getting through this afternoon was calling Freddy. During her lunch hour, she’d also sent in the application for membership to Stronghold and Marquis. In some small way, she was claiming some of herself back.

“Ugh, this is going to be such a waste of time.” Nicholas Alexander III, all six feet of him, was slouched in one of the conference room chairs. At first glance, he was handsome enough. In his late forties, he still kept himself in shape. He had dark brown eyes and matching dark brown hair sprinkled with just a touch of salt. At second glance, it was impossible to miss the petulant set of his mouth and the arrogant unhappiness emanating from him like a bad smell.

Well, it was impossible for her to miss. She knew Rachel, the receptionist who had escorted him into the conference room, hadn’t noticed his flaws. She had been all smiles and giggles as Mr. Alexander smirked and flirted with her.

Thankfully, he didn’t try that with Camille.

“Do you want me to call the meeting off?” she asked. Mrs. Alexander was due any minute, along with her counsel from Addison, O’Shane, and Smith, and Alfred Johan. AOS, as they were known, had a reputation for representing women like Mrs. Alexander, who had ended up married to rich assholes who didn’t want to pay their alimony.

They made a lot of money making those rich assholes pay out the ass.

Personally, Camille would like to see nothing more. Professionally, it was her job to thwart their intentions. According to him, she was supposed to keep him from having to pay anything at all, which was why they were going to court.

She was pretty sure he’d hoped Mrs. Alexander wouldn’t be able to find representation or that she’d decide it wasn’t worth going to court and would just quietly go on her way. Camille had tried to explain to him that wasn’t going to happen as soon as she knew who Mrs. Alexander’s representation was, but Mr. Alexander had dug in his heels, and now here they were.

Which meant trying her best, knowing if she succeeded, she was going to screw some poor woman out of money she was rightfully owed, or her own client, and therefore, her firm, were going to be unhappy with her. This morning, she’d figured out the reason the partners had passed Mr. Alexander off to her. They knew the chances of winning were fifty-fifty, and they didn’t want him unhappy with any of them.

Worried it would ruin their golf game or something.

“No,” Mr. Alexander said after a long minute, straightening in his seat and tugging his suit jacket down so he didn’t look so rumpled. “No, I’m not going to let that bitch get her hands on any of my money. Not when she’s trying to fucking leave me.”

Camille really hoped Mrs. Alexander actually was a bitch. Then she wouldn’t feel so bad about having to represent this asshole. She didn’t bother to point out the reason his wife would get his money was because of the prenup he’d signed.

There was a knock on the door before she could respond. It opened and Rachel smiled as she walked in. The knock had just been to give them a quick heads up that the other side had arrived.

“Right this way. Ms. Sinclair and Mr. Alexander are waiting for you.”

To Rachel’s credit, she didn’t give Mr. Alexander one of her simpering smiles. She just stepped out of the way to let the people behind her walk in.

Halfway to getting to her feet, while Mr. Alexander rudely remained seated beside her, Camille froze when she saw who was walking through the door.

 

Freddy.

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Read the FIRST CHAPTER today!

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Golden Angel is a USA Today best-selling author and self-described bibliophile with a “kinky” bent who loves to write stories for the characters in her head. If she didn’t get them out, she’s pretty sure she’d go just a little crazy.

She is happily married, old enough to know better but still too young to care, and a big fan of happily-ever-afters, strong heroes and heroines, and sizzling chemistry.

When she’s not writing, she can often be found on the couch reading, in front of her sewing machine making a new cosplay, hanging out with her friends, or wandering the Maryland Renaissance Fair.

   

 

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